Confession

There are times when I find myself utterly silent.

Most recently, I am reduced to a pleasant silence when my two-year-old son makes a discovery. When he notices for the first time that there are people waving up in a balcony on the sixth floor of an apartment building, when he steps on a rusty autumn leaf and it creaks beneath his shoe, startling him or when he decides without a shadow of a doubt that he resents green peas, although he likes their colour.

I respect these first-times as genuine experiences, the only ones that are made up of pure human authenticity. He does not feign surprise or joy. He is incapable of mimicking his first impressions and sensations. One of his looks when discovering a new something is worth a thousand adult experiences. Because they lack the power of naïveté ..

Gone but still close

The tale has ended,

The shadow has passed,

The voice is heard no more.

Left behind are the memories,

the people and the leaves.

Rusty and crisp, about to break and vanish.

Yet,

a presence, uneasy for others,

difficult to bear, impossible to ignore.

There is, there are…

Everything is still around –

in the warmth that looms above the ground.

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